Marrying Her Royal Enemy (3 page)

If those deeply embedded marks that had taken purchase on him made her wonder what the forces had been that had changed him so, had driven him to Tibet on a soul-searching expedition, she pushed that curiosity aside. She was here to negotiate her future.

“I’m good with honesty,” she drawled, holding his dark gaze. “It’s always been my forte. Along with sticking to my principles and reaping the messes I sow.”

He ignored the gibe. “What changed your mind?”

“You were right. Notorious dissident that I am, I cannot turn my back on our two countries. Nor on my big dreams, because yes, I do still have them. But there are conditions attached to my becoming your queen.”

He leaned against the rail and folded his arms over his chest. “Let’s hear them.”

“I will not be a figurehead...smothered by the patriarchal establishment. You will give me real power and status.”

“Do you have any advance thoughts?”

“A seat on your executive council.”

His gaze flickered. “That would be most...
unusual
.”

“Say yes, Kostas, or this isn’t happening.”

He gave her a long look. “
Kala.
You can have a seat on the council. But I warn you it will not be an easy ride. Akathinia may be enlightened, but Carnelia is still stuck in the Dark Ages.”

“I like a challenge. Clearly. Second, I will continue my work with the current organizations I support unless my schedule proves to be excessive.”

“I have no problem with that. You do great work. What you
cannot
do is waltz around active war zones. It’s too risky.”

Heat lanced through her. “I do not
waltz
, Kostas. The photograph of me with those children raised millions of dollars toward the support of a regional disarmament treaty.”

He tilted his head. “An unfortunate choice of words. But the fact remains, I need my queen alive.”

Not because he cared, because she was of
value
to him.

“Third,” she continued, “you will not take a mistress. Should you do so, I will have the power to divorce you immediately. It will not require a decree signed by government.”

“I’m not your father, Stella. I have no intention of indulging in affairs. Why would I when I have a woman like you in my bed?”

Her gaze rested on his. “Speaking of which, this will be a political marriage. As such, I will not be under duress to sleep with you.”

His gaze narrowed. “That might be a problem given the fact I need to produce an heir
quickly
in order to secure the Laskos line. Also, your fourth point seems to be in direct contradiction to your third. I can’t have a mistress, but we aren’t going to have sex?”

She waved a hand at him. “The heir—we can make that happen.”

“How does that work?” He took a step closer, dwarfing her with his height and breadth. “We have
conjugal
visits? I seek you out when the
temperature
is right?”

She tilted her head back to look up at him, every cell in her body going on high alert at the proximity of such blatant masculinity. “Something like that.”

A dark glitter filled his gaze. “Setting yourself up as a martyr, Stella? The sacrificial lamb sent to slaughter for the king’s pleasure?”

Her chin lifted. “I would not be the first princess to sacrifice myself to the call of duty. History is littered with them. We are valued for our beauty and poise, our
compassion
and
empathy
, but in the end are viewed as nothing more than glorified broodmares.”

He gave her a long look. “I am offering you far more than that. This would be a true partnership.”

“Along with the heir you so
urgently
require.”

He flicked a hand at her. “What happens when you are not acting as my
broodmare
? When I have normal male urges?”

Her cheeks flamed at the erotic image that spurred in her head. She
knew
what he looked like from that night she’d waited for him in his bed...knew how heart-stoppingly virile he was in every respect. It made the blood coursing through her veins fizzle with heat. Singe her skin.

Diavole
, but this was not how this was supposed to go. She lifted her chin higher, a belligerent expression on her face. “That’s not for me to figure out, Kostas. That’s
your
job.”

“Is it?” His gaze touched her fiery cheeks. “I think when you let go of the past, when you finally forgive me, when you acknowledge how good we are together, we will be as potent a match in the bedroom as we will be ruling my country.”

“No,” she said, even as a pulse of electricity ran between them, magnifying the sizzle in her blood. “That isn’t going to happen. Women are objects to you. I am a means to an end. I would be stupid to forget that and cede power to you.”

“You will be my
wife
, the woman by my side, not an object.” His dark lashes arced over his cheeks. “And who said you would be ceding power? Just because I walked away from you that night didn’t mean I didn’t want you, Stella. That I haven’t replayed that scenario in my head with a far different outcome. You would have equally as much power over me if we went to bed together, maybe more.”

Her stomach muscles coiled. It was a seductive, beguiling thought to imagine he might want her. That her desire for him hadn’t been as one-sided as she’d imagined it to be. That by exploring that revelation, she might wipe away the rejection that stung even now in a place that had never healed. But her head, the part of her she was operating with now, realized his tactics for what they were.
Negotiation. Manipulation.

She lifted her chin. “It will be an act, conceiving your heir. Nothing more. I’ve lost my taste for megalomaniacs housed in beautiful packages.”

“Megalomaniacs?”

“Yes—
you
.”

He studied her for a moment. “Are you including Aristos Nicolades in this esteemed group?”

She lifted a brow. “Following my love life, Kostas? Aristos was simply the last kick at the can.” Her voice took on a nonchalance that hid the steel underpinning her insides. “I’ve decided to make myself as impenetrable as you when it comes to relationships, as
unaffected
, because I’ve found, in the end, it’s just not worth it.”

He frowned. “That’s not you, Stella. You live by your passion.”

“Not anymore I don’t. You should be happy about my new outlook, by the way. It’s the only reason I’m marrying you.”

“That and your desire to do the immense amount of good I know you will.”

“Don’t patronize.” She took a step back because oxygen was necessary for breathing and she couldn’t do that near him. “I’m already on board if you agree to the conditions I’ve laid out.”

He nodded. “Agreed. Shall we go over next steps, then?”

Her head spun.
This was actually happening.
“Go ahead.”

“I fly back to Carnelia tomorrow for a summit of regional leaders. It would be ideal if you accompanied me so we can make the engagement announcement and begin preparations for the wedding.”

Tomorrow?
She had been craving this time to herself so badly.

He read her dismay. “General Houlis, the chief architect behind the military junta, has put his campaign into motion, marshaling strength behind the scenes. His support is by no means solid—he still has a long way to go. We need to neutralize him while we can.”

“I’m assuming the coming elections will be a major weapon at your disposal?”

“Yes. I will announce them at the summit this week. There will be a large media contingent in attendance. Nik will also be there. We will provide a united front.”

“And our engagement? Do we announce that before or after?”

“I will double-check with the palace PR team, but I was thinking this coming Friday. Start the week with a bang at the conference, end the week with an equally strong commitment toward the future.”

“And the wedding? When would that happen?”

“Within two months. Six weeks, I’m thinking. Those who can make it, make it.”

“Six weeks?”

“The events team will make it happen. You just need to show up.”

Like her role in all of this. A chess piece to be moved around at will.

His expression turned conciliatory. “I know it’s traditional for the engagement party to happen in Akathinia, but in this instance, I think it needs to be in Carnelia with all the key figures in attendance.

Her mother was going to have a fit.
A deviant streak reveled in the thought. She enjoyed every opportunity she had to push her aloof mother out of her comfort zone. A latent lashing out against her childhood perhaps, at the attention she’d never received.

“That’s fine.” She watched her dream sabbatical fly out the metaphorical window. She could hardly relax on a beach now knowing what was ahead of her.

“Good.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. Caught off guard, she was blinded by its brilliance. A square-cut diamond set in an exquisite platinum filigree, it dazzled in the sunlight. Upon closer inspection, she saw it had the Carnelian coat of arms interwoven on both sides.

“You were that sure of me?”

“Hopeful. This was my mother’s ring. One of the few remaining mementos I have of her.”

Her chest tightened, a sandpapery feeling invading her throat. “She died when you were very young, I remember.”

“When I was four. I have no real memories of her.”

She studied his impassive expression. What must it have been like to grow up without any warmth in his life? With only his universally despised tyrant of a father to guide him? Had he had someone else to confide in, to love him—a grandmother, a godmother? She couldn’t remember him talking of one. Or had he always been alone?

Athamos had once remarked Kostas was the only man he knew who could look alone in the middle of a crowd. It was something she’d never forgotten. How could she?

“Your hand,” Kostas prompted, pulling her back into the moment.

She held her hand out, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. He slid the ring on, his big hand engulfing hers. The enormity of what she was about to do lodged in her throat as she stared at the stone blazing on her finger. It was a ring that not only symbolized the commitment she was making to Kostas, but also the weight of a nation that now lay squarely on her shoulders.

Kostas held her gaze in his dark, unfathomable one. “
Efharisto
, Stella.
Thank you.
I promise you won’t regret this. We will make a powerful team. We will give Carnelians the future they deserve.”

His energy pulsed through her. Sank into the very heart of her. Her future was now inexorably intertwined with a man she had vowed to hate, a man for whom she now realized her feelings were far more complex than she’d ever anticipated. But there was no looking back now. It was done.

CHAPTER THREE

T
HE
DAYS
FOLLOWING
Stella’s return to Akathinia passed in a blur, likely a good thing given the magnitude of what she’d committed herself to. She knew her decision to marry Kostas had been the right one, knew this was the challenge she had been looking for. It was the
noise
that was getting to her.

Everyone
seemed to have an opinion on her upcoming nuptials to the king of Carnelia, from her hairdresser, who pronounced him “a real man among the current flock of pseudo-men,” to her sister, Aleksandra, who agreed with her hairdresser, referring to Kostas as “one sexy hunk of a man,” to the celebrity press, who’d dubbed their pairing “the most exciting thing to happen to royalty in decades. Camelot has come to Carnelia.”

The traditional media, on the other hand, Kostas’s harshest critics, were taking a wait-and-see approach. Not all of them were convinced King Idas’s son, the thirty-two-year-old Oxford-educated proponent of democracy, could turn his legacy around. Rumblings of military discontent were rippling across the country, approval ratings for the monarchy were down and all bets were off as to whether Kostas could win the hearts and minds of Carnelians.

But there was also hope. The Carnelian people seemed guardedly optimistic, as spontaneous parties broke out in the streets as the first elections in the country’s history were announced for the fall. Those celebrations continued with the news of the king’s forthcoming match to the elder princess of Akathinia. For the great majority, she appeared the bright, promising light Kostas had painted, but for others she was an unknown quantity in a culture historically closed to outsiders.
Not
a Carnelian.

That would have to be overcome, she thought grimly as she flew to London for an official appearance the week before her engagement party. The future of a country, the self-determination of its people, depended on it, though they were so wounded at the moment, they weren’t sure what they wanted.

The oppressive media coverage dogged her as she attended a charity luncheon in support of one of the major hospital’s cancer units. What started out as a peaceful affair was hijacked by the news of her upcoming nuptials. Irritation chasing a beat up her spine, she apologized to her hostess. It was only a taste of the wedding madness, she knew, and it left her in an exceedingly cranky mood as she returned to Akathinia for a dress fitting with her sister-in-law, Sofía, and sister, Alex. A designer who was making her name on the world stage, Sofía was creating both her engagement party and wedding dresses.

“What do you think about this?” Sofía held up a sensational sapphire-hued backless satin gown in the bright light of her palace workshop at the front of the white Maltese stone Akathinian palace.

“Too obvious.”

Sofía returned the dress to the rack and pulled out a white chiffon gown for her inspection.

“Too virginal.”

Her sister-in-law flicked through the row of dresses and held up an elegant, midnight blue lace number.

She shook her head. “Just...not right.”

Alex eyed her. “What are you, Goldilocks?”

At least there was a happy ending to that story.
She ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry, I know I’m being a pain. It’s been a bad week.”

Sofía folded the dress over her arm. “You don’t have to do this, you know. Nothing has been done that can’t be undone.”

Her sister-in-law should know. She’d been an ambitious, career-driven dress-shop owner in Manhattan before she’d fallen in love with Stella’s brother, been swept up in romance and taken the unlikely path of becoming queen. But the road to happiness hadn’t been an easy one for her and Nik.

“I’m doing the right thing.” She said the words more vehemently than she felt them at the moment.

“For you or for your country?”

“For both.”

Alex stayed quiet and she knew why. Her sister was blissfully happy with Aristos, who’d mellowed out from his jungle-cat personality to something approaching civility of late. Stella was happy for her, she really was, but it was like being slapped in the face with her own romantic futility every time she saw them together.

A knock on the door brought their heads up. Her brother strolled in, jacket over his arm, tie loose. He gave his wife a kiss, then glanced at the dress rack. “How’s it going?”

Alex made a face. “How’s it
not
going, you mean.”

Nik took in Stella’s dark look. “Can you give us a second?”

His wife and Alex left, clearly happy for a breather. Her brother turned his ever-perceptive gaze on her. “Everything okay?”

“Never better.”

“This was your decision, Stella.”

“It’s not that.” She waved a hand at him. “I needed a challenge like this. I was dying inside going through the motions. It’s this media circus that’s getting to me. You’d think I’d solved world hunger instead of getting engaged.”

“Think of it as good for Carnelia. People are excited.”

“I know.” She raked a hand through her hair. Strode to the window to look out at the glittering, sun-dappled Ionian Sea, across which her fiancé was attempting to manage the media firestorm he’d created. She wondered how he was doing. She’d talked to him on the phone a few times, but she’d mostly been working with Takis, his personal aide, on logistics, while Kostas attempted to hold a faltering country together.

“Kostas is a good man. Survivor’s guilt is a hell of a thing to deal with. Give him some leeway.”

She turned around. “You absolve him of any responsibility?”

“I have chosen to let go. You should, too.”

She wasn’t sure she was as enlightened as he was.

“I wanted to mention something else. Darius is going to accompany you to Carnelia. Permanently.”

“I can’t ask him to do that—he lives here.”

“He wants to go. His loyalty to you has always been unquestionable.”

She adored Darius. He’d kept her sane at times when it felt as if her life was just too
much
. “Does Kostas know about this?”

“He’s in full agreement. I trust Kostas implicitly—he
will
take care of you. It’s when he’s not there I want an Akathinian, a known quantity, with you.”

“Why? You think I’m in danger?”

“I think it’s a smart precaution. You’re walking into a very tricky political situation.”

She didn’t like how he hadn’t answered the question. But then she’d known taking on this challenge was full of risk.

“Kala.” Fine.

Nik’s gaze softened. “I think you’re very courageous to do this, Stella. I’m proud of you. Remember you are not alone. You are never alone. We’re with you every step of the way.”

Her heart softened. Her rock, Nik was. Passionate, idealistic like her, the yin to Athamos’s rock-steady yang, she’d had to get to know him in pieces. He’d been sent off to join Athamos at boarding school when Stella was four, leaving her with only her nannies and tutor to keep her company while her mother immersed herself in her charity work as her marriage imploded.

She’d seen her brothers on holidays, had eagerly eaten up any time she’d had with them, missing them desperately when they left. When she’d gotten old enough to travel by herself, she’d visited Nik frequently in New York, hoping someday to join him there with her studies. But her parents had axed that dream.

She held his gaze now, as Constantinides electric blue as her own.
“S’agapao.” I love you.
“You know that.”

“Ki ego s’agapao.” I love you, too.
He enfolded her in a warm hug. “Now pick a dress. The party is days away.”

Sofía and Alex returned with coffee and biscuits. Stella eyed the tray. “You think it’s my blood sugar.”

“We’re working all angles,” said Alex.

She smiled. Eyed the dresses. Felt her old fighting spirit rear its defiant head.

“I’m thinking the sapphire blue.”

She was going to dazzle. She was going to shake things up. She was going to seize every ounce of her destiny and accomplish what she’d set out to do. The king had no idea of the storm headed his way.

* * *

Her storm surge was downgraded from a hurricane to a tropical storm by the time she made landfall at the Carnelian palace. Perched on a chain of mountains overlooking a vast green valley in one direction, with the Ionian Sea in the other, the cold and forbidding Marcariokastro was every inch the imposing medieval castle.

It conjured up the dark, suspenseful tales of her childhood, with its square ramparts, circular, capped turrets, moat and drawbridge, although the moat and drawbridge, it was to be noted, were no longer in use. Instead, a beautiful, pastoral lake surrounded the castle.

Stella had visited the massive, gray stone castle with her family years ago when relations between Akathinia and Carnelia had been peaceful; friendly, even. It had seemed a place of immense excitement and mystery to her then, its dungeon and weaponry rooms and long, stone labyrinth of hallways the perfect place for hide-and-seek.

She had always been the bravest of the kids, lasting the longest in her hiding spot, her goose bumps and chattering teeth nothing compared to the thrill of victory. Not even the brave Athamos had liked the dark. But settling into the spacious suite down the hall from the king’s wing, where she would stay until she and Kostas were married, it suddenly felt more unnerving than exciting. Perhaps because the thought that this was now her home filled her with trepidation. Perhaps because she would miss Nik, Sofía and Alex terribly.

Immersed in meetings until late on the night of her arrival, Kostas had left word he would see her the next morning. By the time he deigned to make an appearance as Page was doing Stella’s hair for the party, the day had come and gone, the apprehension she hated herself for having once again kicking up a storm in her veins.

Nodding her head to Page to admit the king, she felt her stomach fill with a thousand butterflies. Clad in a bespoke, light gray suit and white shirt that emphasized his good looks, with his dark hair scraped back from his face, the sleek, powerful impact of him knocked her sideways.

She’d told herself she’d have her response to him firmly under control by now, but the spacious suite suddenly felt as if it had shrunk to the size of a shoe box when he strolled over to stand by her side at the dressing table, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror.

Moistening her lips, she searched for a smart remark but, for the life of her, couldn’t think of one. His gaze slid to her mouth, as he appeared to absorb the evidence of her nerves, then dropped to the plunging neckline of her silk robe that had seemed respectable until he’d walked in, but now made her desperately want to pull the edges together.

She resisted the urge to do so.
Somehow.
The color riding his high cheekbones, the dark heat that claimed his whiskey-hued eyes as they lifted to hers, ignited a slow burn beneath her skin. Sparked a chemical reaction that climbed up into her throat and held her in its thrall.

He bent his head and brushed a kiss against her cheek. Unprepared, or perhaps
overprepared
for the press of his firm mouth against her sensitized skin, she flinched.

Kostas straightened, a dark glitter filling his eyes. Her gaze moved to Page, who was watching them with unabashed curiosity.

“Leave us,” the king bit out quietly. Page scurried from the room as if he’d been Zeus himself raising one of his thunderbolts.

Stella lifted her chin defiantly as the door closed and the room went silent. “You will need,” he instructed tersely, “to learn to hide your very...
distinct
response to me when we’re around others, when the cameras start flashing tonight, or this isn’t going to be a very productive exercise.”

Her chin lifted higher. “I don’t
plan
it, Kostas. It just happens.”

The glint in his eyes deepened. “Maybe we should do it again, then, maybe a
real
kiss this time,
practice
, so it doesn’t happen tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not? Are you afraid of how you might respond?”

“Hardly.” The pressure on her brain pushed her temper to its very edge. “But why stop there?” she challenged. “Why don’t we
do
it right now? Up against the wall while Page is waiting... Would that
satisfy
you? Would that be enough of a
reaction
for you? To have the whole palace abuzz with how you keep me in line?”

He leaned his impressive bulk against the dresser, folding his arms across his chest. Dark amusement melted the ire in his eyes. “Is that the plan, Stella? To make me pay for entrapping you? To bait me until I fall over the edge? You forget how well I know you, how you deflect when you are stressed, when you feel
cornered
, how you use sarcasm as a weapon because that sharp mouth of yours is so very good at it.”

She lifted a shoulder. “You have to work with the tools you’re given.”

His mouth curved. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s eating you?”

“Oh, what would be the fun of that? I’m enjoying your amateur psychology course
so
much, I think
you
should tell
me
.”

He pursed his lips. Eyed her. “It’s been a trying two weeks. We’ve both been analyzed beyond endurance. Most of the Carnelians seem ready to welcome you, but some are reluctant to embrace a foreigner. Tonight is the night you must prove to them you belong. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t feeling the pressure.”

Remarkably spot-on.
“I’ve been brought up in the media glare. I can handle it.”

He inclined his head. “Regardless, I appreciate how you’ve risen to the occasion.”

She had no smart comeback for that, so she left it alone. He flicked his gaze around the elaborately furnished, if exceedingly dark, suite. “How are you settling in?”

“Fine. Except honestly, Kostas, you were right. It’s like you’re caught in the Dark Ages here. Everything is cold, unforgiving stone. There’s no warmth to the rooms, no
life
. How in the world do you live like this?”